


Now Hiring: Assistant to the British Government

by DesperatelyObsessional



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BAMF Anthea, But that's in passing, Chapter one is pure crack, F/M, Fluff, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Matchmaker Mummy, Mycroft IS the British Government, Mycroft is a mess., Mycroft is so done with the goldfish, Mycroft-centric, Sherlock's the annoying sibling in this one, mythea
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 13:41:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11314563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesperatelyObsessional/pseuds/DesperatelyObsessional
Summary: All of Mycroft's PA's are hopeless. Anthea? Not so much.Or- Mummy sets Mycroft up on a blind date with Anthea, and our little British government thinks he's conducting a job interview.





	Now Hiring: Assistant to the British Government

**Author's Note:**

> I was in the mood for some fluffy Mythea. I couldn't find some, so I wrote my own.
> 
> Let me know if you'd like me to continue.

It took a lot to push Mycroft Holmes over the edge. With a calm temperament and a powerful will, Mycroft was able to stare down trained assassins with a blank face.

However, Mycroft was certain his PA was the anti-Christ, sent to Earth just to torture him.

“You what?!” the government official squawked. His eyes were roving over the trembling PA, looking for any sign the employee was joking.

“I’m so sorry, sir. Instead of sending the fake RM camp locations to be leaked- I... accidentally sent the real ones, the files just looked so similar, sir, it was an honest mistake, and by the time I had figured it out, the department had already placed the information with a ground informant, I’m so sorry, Mr. Holmes,” Andrew whimpered, hiding his face in his hands.

Blinking, Mycroft had to take a moment to process what the man was saying, what the man had done. And once he had, there was just incredulous anger fizzing inside the British Government.

“No. Andy. Sorry doesn’t fix the fact that you just sent the actual location of a Royal Marine regiment’s camp to the bloody terrorists-”

“But sir-”

“Get out, Andrew, if it wasn’t blatantly apparent, you are fired,” Mycroft states, trying to reign in his anger.

Mycroft moves to call the state secretary, trying to figure out a way to cover up the fact the error came from his office and simultaneously arrange an Emergency Evac for a squad of thirty marines, 3 medical officers, and all the necessary equipment in the- _an hour for the information to travel through the proper channels, about an two hours to plan, thirty minutes of communication time, and another thirty in travel time_ -

“Um, sir, I’m sure you’re busy right now, but could I ask you for a recommendation letter?” Andrew asked from the doorway.

“No.”

The stressed, auburn-haired man begins dialing a number on his blackberry.

“Mr. Holmes, I hate to ask, it’s just that I’ve worked here for quite a while, and it would really help in future-”

“GET OUT ANDREW” Mycroft shouts, the vein in his forehead throbbing.

He nods and leaves with a sour look on his face, leaving the door to the office open, which Andrew _knew_ was one of his pet peeves.

Fighting the urge to repeatedly slam his face into his desk, Mycroft informs the Home Secretary of the situation, and making a mental note not to hire an idiot next time.

 

-cAn YoU sAy YiKeS-

 

With an IQ of 140 and a witty smile, Karoline Newberry seemed perfect. She was able to multi-task perfectly, and keep up with Mycroft’s sarcasm and quick paced schedule. Coupled with a lively personality and an odd femininity to her, she became a significant presence in any room she stepped into.

Mycroft was proud in his ability to hire a perfect assistant, that is, until, Karoline became comfortable in her new position. And her optimistic personality slowly became bubbly and chatty.

While scheduling a video conference with Japan’s Prime Minister, Karoline shared, “My boyfriend’s Japanese, actually.”

Which was fine. He could deal with such things, Mycroft decided as he sipped his tea. Speaking of significant others was considered normal, Mycroft remembered, and he didn't mind enduring the occasional personal comment.

"Oh?" Mycroft commented for lack of ideas.

“Yeah. Honestly- I don’t understand why more women don’t date Asian men. I mean. They’re completely hairless from the neck down,” she continued.

Mycroft shifted in his chair, silently asking her to stop.

Then she looks Mycroft straight in the eyes and says, “It’s like making love to a dolphin.”

The British government chokes on his tea.

“Are you alright, Mr. Holmes? Was it something I said?” she questions, with a concerned look on her face.

Mid- cough, the Mycroft shakes his head, hoping to maintain his decorum. Somehow, Karoline takes his as a sign to keep going.

“I mean, it’s just like so nice. If you have a romp with a slightly hairier then average man, you literally have road burn all over your body for weeks. And don’t get me started on what it does to a woman’s vag-”

“Pardon, Karoline, I have to check if the… Centurium paper work has arrived,” Mycroft interrupted, getting up and swiftly walks out of his office, away from the crazy woman.

“I have it right here,” Karoline called out to her rapidly retreating boss.

“The electrical bill, then,” Mycroft calls over his shoulder, continuing to walk away.

"But that's done automatically," she whispers to herself in confusion.

\--

But, Mycroft decided that extremely open and too much information was still much better than the Al-Qaeda incident, so Karoline stays.

Until of course, Mycroft- with Karoline in tow- goes to a UN meeting. It’s a board of important, invisible persons from China, America, India, Russia, France, Germany, the UK, and Japan; so when Mycroft gets a call from the Prime Minister, he tells Karoline to represent the UK until he gets back.

Confident that she’d be able to take notes and make sure no one invaded England for a couple minutes, Mr. Holmes took his time with the Prime Minister, joking, and exchanging formalities.

"Yes, I have watched season 5 of house of cards... I enjoyed it immensely..."

 

Ten minutes later, when he went back, he found Karoline talking animatedly about a very classified MI5 intelligence mission involving the in-depth investigation of five of the seven other countries at the table.

“We used this little microchip that agents transferred into the skin between the thumb and forefinger, during a handshake- Oh, Mr. Holmes, welcome back, I was just telling them all about Project Olive Branch, I know that it’s a bit classified, but you know," she shrugs, "sharing is caring.”

 _That doesn’t apply to classified government information_ , Mycroft internally screamed, _you gossiping banshee._

On the outside, Mycroft contained himself to saying, “Karoline?”

“Yes, boss?” she asked with a smile, flipping her curly ponytail over her shoulder.

“You’re fired, please exit the room.”

“Excuse me? That’s not a very funny joke, sir." Karoline frowns, and it jars him for a second, as he realized that he'd never seen her without a smile. 

“I’m serious. You’re fired. Find a cab or some other means of transportation, because you aren’t leaving with me,” Mycroft said with a tired wave of his hand.

“But… we’re in Rome.”

“Then I do not envy your upcoming cab fare.”

Karoline huffed, and stormed out with a flip of her curly brown hair, leaving Mycroft to deal with the room full of irritated foreign dignitaries.

The British Government wanted the ground to swallow him and never let him out until everyone in the room was long dead and couldn’t remember this incident.

“Well, Ladies and Gentlemen, I…”

A rock. I need to hire an intelligent, but emotionless rock, Mycroft decided, feeling a bit hopeless with his life.

 

-pOoR mYcRoFt-

Yevone Matthews was like a robot. With sharp, dark eyes, a dark void where her personality should have been, and street smarts, she seemed to fit everything Mycroft would have needed.

Mycroft had been so hopeful, and then after a week, with dozens of files backlogged, and even more people calling to ask for updates, the genius realized.

Yevone was lazy, lazy to the point of stubbornness.

She didn’t do anything.

She’d just sit there.

And do... Nothing.

“I’m at my wits end with this, Mummy. She just sits there. I’ll give her a deadline and she tells me in that blank voice of hers ‘don’t worry Mr. Holmes, I’ll get it done’ and then she just goes back to filing her nails. I’m _literally_ paying her to be a human decoration… I’m considering looking into cloning, at least my clone would have a decent work ethic, if not a long lifespan,” Mycroft complains over the video call.

His mother cooed reassurances as Mycroft attempted to do Sherlock’s taxes- something Yevone should have done a week ago. As Mycroft hadn’t done his own since he was twenty, he was quite out of practice, currently realizing why people called taxes the devil’s contract. Because he’d quite rather have only ten more years to live then finish out this form.

_Next year, I’m just waving them, honestly, is a detective service an at-home business or a primary profession?_

“Oh, well I’m sorry to hear about that, dear, but, I’ve found this wonderful girl. I know you’ve had trouble with women before, but she’s perfect, you’d like her Mikey… She’s beautiful and smart. She can carry a conversation and has this wonderful sense of sarcasm, and between you and me…” her voice lowers to a conspiratory whisper, “I do think she’s involved with MI6.”

Mycroft looked up from the taxes to look at his phone screen, with a frown, “Do you really think she’d be a good choice? Generally speaking, MI6 is full of pretentiousness and devoid of any talent but the ability to put holes in things.”

Waving her hands, Mummy nods excitedly, “I’m sure. You’ll love her.”

Mycroft feels a flutter of hope in the abyss of hopelessness that was his life. “Then I’d like to meet her right away, I can’t see any way she could be worse than the office decoration.”

Mycroft looks back at the papers, tapping his pen to his lips.

With a confused tone, Mummy said, “Mycroft, I’m not talking about…”

_Would the ‘homeless network’ count as a dependent? Would John? Sherlock would get a substantial deduction if they did…_

_Speaking of, I doubt Yevone ran background checks on the newest members Sherlock had no doubt recruited in that rabble_ , Mycroft realized with a silent groan, not looking forward to doing the tedious task himself.

“I’ll set up a dinner for you and Autumn, at the Langrange for seven? Is that okay? Mikey? Mike!”

Mycroft jumps to attention, the way a misbehaving soldier immediately goes into parade rest, “Yes, sorry, Langrange at seven, I heard you, Mummy, sorry.”

_Please don’t start a lecture, please don’t start a lecture, please don’t start a lecture._

Only mildly annoyed at her subordinate, General Holmes waves it away, and changes the subject. “Now, what’s going on with the Italian bill that just passed, I know there’s a cover up.”

And the relieved British government proceeds to tell his mother all the completely classified information she wants to know for the next hour.


End file.
